Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1887-06-03
THE THIRD WATCH.
The Time When Criminals Do Their
Worst.

Worst.
Rev. DR.. Talmage Ixhorts His Hearers to
Tracts-Gamblcrs tho Most Heartless OF
All Evil Doors.
BROOKLYN, May l5.-At the tabernacle
this morning there were the same great
throngs of people as usual, OVERLOOKING the
main audience room into the corridors, and
from the corridors into the street. This,
the largest church in America, is more and
more inadequate to hold the people, as the
Witt Talmage, ID. D., took for his text this
morning: "Watchman. what of the night2"
Isaiah xxi. 2. lie said:
When night came down on Babylon,
Nineveh, and Jerusalem, they needed care
full watching, otherwise the incendiary's
torch might have been thrust into the very
heart OF tie metropolitan spiendor. or
enemies, marching from the hills, might
have forced the gates. All night long, on
top of the wall and in front Of the gates,
might be heard the measured step of the
Waterman on his solitary beat: silence hung
i'll air. save as some passer by raised the
question: "Watchman, what of the
night?"
1t is to me deeply suggestive and solemn
thing to ses man standing guard by night.
1t thrilled through me, rs at the gate of an
arsenal in Charleston. the question once
smote me: "Who comes therc2" followed
by the sharp command: "Advance aud give
the countersign." Every moral teacher
stands on picket, or patrols the wall rs
Waterman. His work is to sound the
alarm; and whether il be in the first watch,
in the second watch, in the third watch, or
Al,
daybreak filings its "mo"ning glories" Of
blooming cloud across the arching trellisof
the Sky.
The ancients divided their night into
four parasitic first watch from 6 to 9; the
second, from to IL: the third, from II to
3; the fourth, from To G,
l speak now Of tho city in tho third
watch, or from 10 to 8 o'clock.
never weary OF looking upon the life
and brilliancy of the city in tho first watch.
That is the hour when tho stores are clos
ing. The laboring mon. having quilted tho
scatfolding and the shops, are on their way
home. 1t rejoices INC TO give them my
seat in the city car. They have stood and
hammered away all day. Their feet are
weary. They are exhausted with the tug
of work. They are mostly cheerful. With
nppetites sharpened on tho swift turner's
wheel and the carpenters MILESTONE, they
seek the evening meal. The clerks, too.
have broken away from the counter, and
with brain weary of the long line of figures,
and the whilns of those who 60 shopping,
seek the face of mothor, or wife and child.
The merchants are embarrassing them
selves from their anxieties Oh their wny up
the street. The boys that lock up ore
heaving away at the shutters, showing the
heavy bolts and taking o last look ct the
fire 10 see that all is safe. Tho streets arc
thronged with young men setting out from
the great centers of bargain making.
Let idlers clear tho street, and give right
of way to the besweatcd artisans and mer-
chants. They have earned their bread,
and are now on their way home to get it.
The lights in full jet hang over 10000
evening repasts-the parents at either end
of the table, the children between. Thank
God, "who setteth the solitary in families"
A few hours later and oil the pluces of
amusement, good and bad, are in full tide.
Lovers of art, catalogue in hand, stroll
through the galleries and discuss tho pic
lures. The ballroom is replendent with the
rich apparel of those who. on either side Of
signal from the orchestra. The footlishts
Of the theater flash up, the bell rings, md
the curtain rises, and out from the gorge
Gus scenery glide the actors, greeted with
the vociferation of Che expectant multi
tudcs. Concert halls ore lifted into en-
chantment with the warble of one song
stress, or swept out on o sea of tumultuous
feeling by the blast of brazen instruments.
Drawing rooms are tillod with all graceful
ness of apparel. with oil sweetness Of
sound, With all splcndor Of manner;
mirrors are catching up and multiplying
the scene until it seems as if in infinite cor
ri1 cd
yancing and retreating.
The outdoor air rings with laughter and
with the moving to Of thousands Of the
great pronenndes. The dashins span,
adrip with the foam OF tho long country
ride, r,lshes past as you halt at the curb
stone.
Mirth, revelry, beauty. fashion. mag
nifcence mingle in tho great metropolitan
picture, until the thinking man goes home
to think more seriously and the praying
man to pray more earnestly.
A beautiful and overwhelming thing is
the city in the first and second watches Of
the night.
But the clock strikes IL, and the third
watch has begun.
The thunder of the city has rolled out of
the air. The slightest sounds cut the night
with such distinctness us to attract your
attention. The tinkling of the bell of the
street. car in the distance and the baying of
the cog; the stamp Of tho horse in the next
street. The slamming Of saloon door;
the biccough of the drunkard; tho shrieks
Of tho steam whistle. five miles away-Oh,
how suggestive, my friends, the third
watch OF the night!
There are honest men passing up ana
down the street. Hero is city missionary
who has been carrying scuttlo of coal to
that poor family in that dark place. Here
is an undertaken going up the steps of
building from which there comes bitter
cry, which indicates that the destroying
angel has smitten the first born. Here is
minister of religion who hos been giving
the sacrament to dying Christian. Here
is physician passing along in great haste,
the messenger few steps ahead hurrying
on to the household.
Nearly all the lights have gone out in
the dwellings, for it is the third watch of
the night. The light i'll the window is the
light of the watcher, for tho medicines
must be administered, and the fever must
be watched, and the restless tossing off of
the covcrlid must be resisted. and tho ice
must be kept Oh the hot temples, and the
perpetual prayer must 60 up from hearts
soon to be broken.
Oh, the third watch of the night! What
q stupendous thought whole city at
rest!
Weary arm preparing for to-morrows